The Frankenstein Project
by Verity58
Summary: Doctor Hikari has been working obsessively on his latest project for months. ...A very controversial project, at that. After staying late at the lab one night, he is confronted by his worried wife, but as he explains, her concern turns to horrified shock. There is more riding on the experiment than anyone could have believed. AU origin story from the NT Warrior universe.
1. Half-Light

"I don't like you being involved with this."

Doctor Hikari glanced up at the sound of his wife's voice. For a moment, his eyes strained as he tried to see her from across the room; the area was lit only by a dim, blue glow from the specialized lights on the walls. Once he'd managed to focus enough to make out her form hovering in the doorway, he sighed—a long, deep sigh that spoke an eternity of his mental, emotional, and physical exhaustion.

"Haruka," he said, smiling weakly over his shoulder. His voice was rough and low. "Hi."

Haruka shivered slightly and took a few steps further into the lab, her long brown hair brushing lightly against her cheeks. "You did hear me, right?"

"I heard."

Haruka tightened her lips and took a long look around the room. Her warm, cinnamon-colored eyes reflected the objects around her as she gazed about—the lights, the cluttered workbenches that lined all four of the walls, and the rows of sophisticated desks and control panels scattered throughout the space. Her eyes lingered for a moment on the large, clear glass cylinder that stood in the center of the floor. Inside, a few tiny bits of shapeless, iridescent light spiraled around hypnotically.

"Remind me again why you keep it so dark in here?" she asked.

"The electromagnetic energy interferes with the experiments," he said. "I can only use a certain frequency of light, and only at low power."

"The _experiment_, you mean. ...Experiment, as in singular." Haruka turned her eyes back to her husband.

Doctor Hikari grimaced. He knew what he must look like—brown hair unkempt, cheeks rough with stubble, white lab coat rumpled and hanging crookedly over more rumpled clothes. He probably had dark shadows beneath his eyes, too, though it would be difficult to see them in this light. A little uncomfortably, he straightened his glasses, looking back down at his notes and the small array of miniature holographic displays sitting next to them.

Haruka's gaze continued to linger on him even after he had turned away. "I don't want you involved in this," she repeated, in a softer voice.

Doctor Hikari closed his eyes. Amazing, how piercing a sweet voice like hers could be.

Light footsteps from behind let him know that Haruka had walked forward and was now standing directly behind his chair. A gentle hand reached out and rested itself on his shoulder, tenderly pausing there a moment before it began to move across his back, massaging his tight, aching muscles.

"When are you going to come home?" Haruka asked. "You do know what time it is, don't you?"

Doctor Hikari shook his head, his eyes still closed. "I hit another dead end today. I can't leave until I figure out some other possibility that might actually stand a chance."

"You need sleep."

"I'll come home soon. I promise."

Haruka tried another tactic. Her voice was still soft, but now it had a new edge of solemnity to it that hadn't been there before. "Netto and Saito missed you today."

Doctor Hikari hesitated, guilt flooding through his insides. He hadn't seen the boys even once today. He hadn't seen them much at all, over the last few weeks. "How are they doing?"

"Fine. As well as could be expected, anyway, for our own little troublemaking twin tornadoes. I asked one of the neighbors to watch them while I came to pick you up." Her hand slowed its soothing motion across Doctor Hikari's back, and then came to rest near the base of his neck. "They're only seven, Yuichiro," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "They need their dad."

The words, spoken gently, wrapped themselves around Yuichiro's heart like cords of iron. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes, staring ahead into the darkness. There was still so much work to be done. So much work, and possibly _too_ much. It made his temples ache just to think about it, and he didn't dare to imagine what would happen if he failed. How could he possibly afford to waste even one of his precious, limited seconds?

But still…

He took a long, deep breath that was almost a sigh, and turned to look his wife in the eyes. "Let me make a few last notes and set everything up for tomorrow. It won't take more than a couple minutes, and then we'll go out to the car."

Haruka smiled briefly, a tired sort of relief filling her eyes. She stepped back as Doctor Hikari pushed his chair away from his desk and moved over to one of the room's many control panels in order to shut down some of the equipment. Her eyes continued to watch him as his hands flew deftly across the keyboard, but after a moment, her gaze shifted once again to the cylinder in the center of the room.

"Is that it?" she asked, her voice filled with a hesitant kind of wonder. "Is that… _him_?"

"Not yet," he said, looking up at the spiraling bits of light. "…And if things keep going the way they're going, then it won't be _anything_ for a while."

Haruka's gaze hardened, moving back to Doctor Hikari. "I don't like this, Yuichiro. I really, really don't like this."

A mild sort of confusion crept into Doctor Hikari's mind, like a cat treading intently over a polished, wooden floor. Haruka's voice had been unusually stern.

"I'm sorry," he said, flicking his eyes in Haruka's direction without turning his head. His heart twisted under the weight of the iron cords still fastened there. "I promise I'm trying to be there for you and the kids, but things have just—…"

"This isn't about the boys," Haruka interrupted, the stiff lines of worry and subtle anger appearing in her eyes and face. "...And this isn't about me. It's about your _experiment_, Yuu—it's dangerous! You're messing around with things that ought to be left alone!"

Doctor Hikari stopped in the middle of reconfirming the "pause experiment" command code for the main computer. "I'm what?"

Haruka started to say something, but looked away awkwardly instead, her neck and shoulders tight with stress.

"I don't like this," she muttered again.

"We've established that," Doctor Hikari said quietly. He studied her for a moment before continuing, letting one arm fall back to his side. "You're holding back, aren't you? You have been for a while."

Haruka fidgeted for a moment, avoiding his gaze. "I don't… Never mind. Just finish things up so that we can go ho—…"

"_Answer_, Haruka," Doctor Hikari said, cutting her off. For the first time that evening, he set his jaw and straightened his back, looking ahead with a severity that he almost never used.

Haruka paused, looking up. Her cheeks flushed so deeply that the change in color was noticeable even in the dim light. When she spoke, her voice started out low, but it rose in volume as she continued, gathering heat like a flame spreading over a log. "You want me to answer?" she said. "You want the truth? Fine. _Fine!_ I'll tell you the truth! You've gone crazy, Yuichiro! You're obsessed, and you're turning into something that's starting to scare me! This stupid _project_ of yours—it's eating away your life, and it's something that neither you nor _anyone else _should have ever even considered laying a finger on! _What in the __world__ are you thinking_?"

Doctor Hikari's throat felt tight, and a strange, hollow sensation was spreading throughout his chest. "I'll admit I'm obsessed," he said slowly, struggling to keep his voice calm. "…But I don't understand. Why does this _particular _project make me insane?"

"It's human_ life_, Yuichiro!" Haruka cried. "Do you understand that? _Human life!_ You're not just manipulating data, or toying around with programming. You're creating an actual, living… _thing_! Like Frankenstein in his lab! What on earth could possibly have driven you to start a project like this?"

Doctor Hikari stared. His total shock must have registered on his face, because the angry gleam in Haruka's eyes soon faded into a look of confusion, sorrow, and honest pity. Still blushing, she looked down at the floor, twining her hands together silently as she waited for his response.

"Like Frankenstein," he muttered under his breath. If that was what Haruka thought, then he had failed entirely—not just as a scientist, but as a husband, as well. Taking a slow breath, he stepped forward and moved over next to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders in a soft embrace. For one brief instant, Haruka hesitated, but she soon closed her eyes and accepted the gesture, melting into his chest.

"I'm surprised that you waited this long to say something," Doctor Hikari said.

Haruka sighed. "I trusted you. I still do. I figured that there had to be _something_ I was missing… but…"

"…But I was so wrapped up in my own work that somehow, I forgot to explain," Doctor Hikari finished. He closed his eyes in self-disgust. He ran one hand through Haruka's silk-soft hair, taking comfort in her warmth and in the fact that apparently, he had married the most patient woman in the entire world.

"How much have I told you about this experiment?" Doctor Hikari asked. He honestly didn't know.

"Not much," Haruka said. "I know you're making a netnavi, and that you're trying to make it come to life, with feelings and a mind of its own, and…" she paused, her voice growing quieter. "…and a soul. A human spirit."

Doctor Hikari nodded, his heart twisting at the uncertainty in Haruka's voice. "Do you know why?"

Haruka frowned. "You were upset about something. It had to do with netnavi manufacturing, or… or something like that."

Taking a step back, Doctor Hikari rested his hands on Haruka's shoulders. "You've been in the dark long enough," he said, gesturing to his right with a jerk of his head. "Come over here, and I'll explain everything."

He guided her over to a small, freestanding control panel that was almost directly in front of the mysterious cylinder. There were three or four professional-looking chairs on either side of the panel, but the space in front of it was empty for several yards.

"And this is…?" Haruka said, eyeing the panel with a mixture of wariness and curiosity.

"The controls to one of my larger holographic projectors," he said. "So long as we have it, I thought that we could use a visual aid." He turned a dial and flicked his fingers over series of buttons on the touchscreen, and in a matter of seconds, a beam of blue-green light shot down from the ceiling and the life-sized image of a humanoid figure appeared in front of them.

"I'll start off by asking you an easy question," Doctor Hikari said. "What is this a picture of?"

"A netnavi," Haruka replied.

"What kind of netnavi?"

"I don't know, it's…" Haruka paused, studying the image. It looked almost like a human dressed in the odd combination of a sleek, grey jumpsuit and a rounded helmet, but it was smoother and simpler, with bolder lines, neater angles, and strangely-colored skin. …And there was something about the eyes, which were a single, solid color—those eyes were obviously lifeless, making the image appear more like a statue than anything else. "It's a regular, standard model," she finished. "No fancy gadgets, no special features. I'd say that it's probably pretty old."

"The first model of netnavi ever made," Doctor Hikari confirmed. "A type NOR-3-M7, also known as a 'normal navi,' or 'normnav,' for short. They were made at about the same time that the World Cyber Network was invented. As you know, the Network is an enormous cyberspace that exists alongside our physical world, linking most of today's electronics together in a way that is simple, reliable, and extremely convenient."

Haruka nodded. "If something's wrong with an appliance, then all you have to do is take a look at the cyberworld in that area, and you can fix the problem in a heartbeat."

"That's how it works when we have netnavis to help us, anyway," Doctor Hikari corrected. "…Which is why they were invented. Each of them was programmed to serve as a sort of bridge between our world and the cyberworld—that way, you can use the Net to your full advantage without learning how to manipulate raw data with your mind.

" …Now," he continued, turning back to the control panel and pressing a couple more keys. "Can you tell me what _this _is?" Another, similar image appeared to replace the first one. The projection was still that of a lone figure dressed in a jumpsuit, but this time, the clothing was more brightly colored and the proportions were a bit more accurate. The biggest difference was that while the normnav had been gender neutral, this one was obviously supposed to look like a girl.

"It's a custom netnavi," Haruka answered promptly. "Though it's less elaborate than most."

"That's right. It seems like a pretty obvious step up from the normnav, doesn't it? Same basic purpose, but a little better looking with a couple of extra features. By the time these were made, navis were being used for more specialized tasks—operating a certain type of computer system, or defending against viruses, for example. Naturally, the navis themselves were given some specialized improvements to fit the different jobs."

"Makes sense," Haruka agreed.

Doctor Hikari turned back to the control panel, intending to input the command that would take them on to the next image in line. When he raised his hand, however, he hesitated, clenching his fist so tightly that his nails bit into his palm. His hands were shaking, his heart was pounding, and he found that he was fighting the urge to pace.

"Are you alright?" Haruka asked after he stood there for several seconds without moving.

Doctor Hikari swallowed before answering. "I'm fine." Clenching his teeth, he forced himself to open his hand and punch the new command into the touchscreen.

The hologram flickered, and Doctor Hikari watched as a third image came up to replace the previous one—another netnavi, similar to the last but more detailed. This time, the jumpsuit sported a sleek-looking design on the front, and the netnavi's proportions, stance, and facial expression made it seem far more lifelike than either of the others. The eyes, too, had been altered to look more realistic, though there was still something plasticky and fake about them.

"What can you tell me about this image?"

"Another generation of netnavi. These ones are more common nowadays; I think that mine is one of this model."

"Right again." Doctor Hikari's mouth tightened. "Now, what differences do you think there are between this one and the last one, programming-wise?"

"Programming-wise?" Haruka blinked. "Well… not too long ago, everyone started using this kind of navi, and since personalizing them was part of the fun, I guess they're even more specialized now than they—…"

"Still right," Doctor Hikari said, cutting her off, "…but missing the point." There was a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, and he turned away from the projector in agitation, unable to hold still any longer. He snapped his fingers, massaged his hands, folded and unfolded his arms, and fidgeted with the sleeves of his lab coat. It took a good amount of willpower for him to resist the urge to go back to his notes and read through them yet again.

"Yuichiro?" Haruka said, sounding concerned. She took a small, worried step toward him. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm _fine_," he said, his voice rough. "Now _think_, Haruka. There was one major difference between this style of navi and the last one—something that the designers did to make them more marketable and appealing. What was it?"

Haruka thought for a moment, turning back to look at the hologram. All at once, something clicked, and she turned back to him with narrowed, hesitant eyes. "The enhanced 'user interaction,'" she said. "The designers improved their artificial intelligence so that it seemed like they almost had personalities. They're polite, obedient, patient… And one or two of them was programmed a little deeper, with a sense of humor or a sense of honor."

"Bingo." Doctor Hikari closed his eyes and forced his hands to be still. Turning back to the control panel for one last time, he selected a hologram and brought it up on the projector. Even before he had completely finished entering the command, however, he began to step away, turning his back so that he wouldn't have to see the final image. He knew what he would find, and couldn't bring himself to look. If he saw it now, he knew that he would be unable to make himself do anything but continue work on his experiment.

Beside him, Haruka caught her breath as she gazed up at the image. Her face was pale as chalk, and Doctor Hikari knew that it wasn't just a trick of the dim, blue light.

His voice came out in a whisper. "Can you tell me what this is?

"It's…" Haruka began, and then laughed nervously. "No. It can't be. For a second, I thought… But no. I must be imagining things."

"What do you see?"

"I'm imagining things. Netnavis are like robots! There's no possible way that… that…"

"…That this one is alive?" Doctor Hikari finished for her.

Haruka was silent, staring at the image with eyes that were opened wide in a mixture of realization, wonder, and horror. "Impossible," she said again. …In her voice, though, Doctor Hikari could hear a tremor of doubt. She had seen it. He had known she would. Sweet, smart, perceptive Haruka had seen in an instant what hundreds of programmers had failed to notice, blinded by either their pre-formed, "scientific" opinions, or by the allure of money.

There was a subtle, and yet enormously critical difference between this netnavi and each of the previous generations. There was a new, intelligent gleam in her eyes, and something in her gaze that seemed almost… _pained_.

"There was a report…" Haruka whispered. She stopped to swallow when her voice caught in her throat. "A report on the news. About a netnavi that went rogue and attacked its owner. They said that there was just a flaw in the programming, but…"

"There was no flaw in the programming," Doctor Hikari said. "The only thing that was wrong with him was that his real personality—the personality of his soul—was in contrast to the fake personality that his body was programmed with. He just couldn't handle the strain."

Haruka's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, her shoulders heaving as her breathing devolved into ragged, broken gasps. "That's…" She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, unable to complete the sentence.

Doctor Hikari put a hand on her shoulder, switching off the projector as he did so. Silently, he pushed Haruka over to one of the nearby chairs, and she sank into it weakly, pinching her lips shut as she stared at the ground.

"Fortunately enough, that seems to be a very extreme scenario," Doctor Hikari said after a moment had passed. "Most netnavis of this particular generation—and I've talked with a _lot_ of them, as part of my research—just seem to live with a subtle sense that something is wrong. It's sad and it's horrible, but they aren't being… _torn apart_, like that one on the news."

Haruka planted her hands on her knees, her eyes clamped shut against the burning of tears. When she had finally gained enough breath to speak, she said, "What have we done?"

"What have we done?" Doctor Hikari repeated harshly, unable to fight back a bitter, sardonic laugh. "We've been bringing children into the world, _programming_ their bodies to make them more appealing to us, and then selling them, like slaves. Our society has, on complete accident, committed what I can only describe as the grossest atrocity against humanity that our world has ever seen."

Haruka trembled, still staring at the place where the hologram had been. "What _happens_ to them, Yuu?" she gasped. "What _happens_ when you try to… to reprogram a soul?"

Doctor Hikari stiffened at the question. Firmly, he took both of Haruka's hands in his own, turning to face her with a solemn, serious expression. "You can't," he said, his voice low. "It's impossible, thank the Heavens above."

"But…"

"We're programming their _bodies_, Haruka," Doctor Hikari said before she had a chance to interrupt. He squeezed her hands once before letting them go. "We've been giving them natural tendencies and desires that they have to fight against in order to maintain their actual selves. It's like we've been giving them mental or emotional disabilities that they have to cope with. I'm not worried about the integrity of their souls."

Haruka took a shaky breath, closing her eyes in relief. "You're sure?"

"As sure as I possibly can be." There was no evidence, of course. There was no actual, presentable proof that the netnavis were even alive in the first place. Still, there was something inside of Doctor Hikari that just… _knew_.

The ghost of a smile graced his lips. "Actually," he amended, "I'm positive. One-hundred percent positive."

"How in the world has no one noticed?" Haruka still sounded as if she were being strangled, but a bit of strength had come back into her eyes, and she met Doctor Hikari's gaze with a determined look of her own. "I know that this generation of netnavi is fairly new, so not many people have one, but… but surely _someone _must have seen by now that their new 'product' was more than just bits of data!"

"You're right," Doctor Hikari confirmed. "Our world is far from perfect, but we aren't completely blind. In fact, I've spoken with a handful of owners who've developed a two-way bond with their netnavis. The problem, though, is that at this place in time, no one else can _do _anything about it." His eyes darkened. "I'm the only one with access to a lab and the training to use it. I'm the only scientist out there who believes that a gut feeling is worth a second glace. And the only one who's crazy enough to delve into something so controversial."

Haruka's eyes wandered back to the tall, gleaming cylinder in front of them. The swirling data gleamed importantly. "I knew that there was something," she muttered. "Something I didn't understand about your project, and why you would go to such lengths." She relaxed back into her chair, a small degree of newfound peace stealing into her face. "So… how exactly does your experiment tie into all of this?"

For the first time in too long, Doctor Hikari felt his shoulders relax. He smiled. "Well, to get things to change, then I need to convince people listen to me. And to make people listen, I need to prove that a netnavi is capable of life. That's why I'm creating a netnavi of my own. The logic is simple, really."

"But…" Haruka shook her head. "Netcorp and the other companies make living netnavis all the time. How can you prove that yours is actually alive_?_"

"You're right," Doctor Hikari said. "You're perfectly right. The manufacturers bring their little programmed _products_ to life, accidentally, every day." He took a moment to grimace in distaste, but it wasn't long before a glimmer of confidence, and maybe even excitement, kindled in his eye. "…_My_ netnavi, though, is going to have one major difference—he won't have any personality programming at all."

Haruka turned back toward her husband at the words. She looked slightly confused at first, but then her eyes widened as she realized the implications. If he could make a netnavi that had a real, honest personality without a scrap of programming…

"That's…" she paused, searching for words. "Incredible. It seems like the obvious course of action now I've heard of it, but it's genius, too." A little uncomfortably, she shifted in her chair, her eyes darting back to the cylinder as if she was unsure of where to look. "But… isn't that essentially what a normnav is? A navi without personality programming? How are you going to make sure that you don't just end up with a highly advanced sort of normnav?"

Abruptly, Doctor Hikari's small moment of peace drew to a close. Somewhere deep inside him, a gnawing sense of unease began to claw away at his heart, and his brow furrowed back into its now familiar look of frustration. Unable to continue sitting calmly and helplessly next to his hopeful wife, he stood, striding forward until he was only a few feet from the cylinder and its pitifully lifeless contents.

"That's just the problem," he said. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" Even though he couldn't see her, the slightly disappointed but still-hopeful note in Haruka's voice made Doctor Hikari squirm. "You must at least have some idea. You've been at this project for months!"

Somehow, Doctor Hikari couldn't help but think that the lights in the room were a little dimmer than they had been before.

Seconds ticked by. No matter how hard he tried to speak, Doctor Hikari couldn't bring himself to answer. …Apparently, though, the heavy silence was all the answer that Haruka needed. For the second time that day, Doctor Hikari heard her light footsteps come up behind him, and soon her reflection was just visible in the cylinder's smooth glass to his left. The look on her face was pained, but sympathetic.

"I'm sorry," Doctor Hikari murmured. "Things have been… _difficult. _I'm dealing with an entirely new branch of science, here. Cyberbiology didn't _exist _until _I invented _it."

"It's going to take some time," Haruka said softly, slipping her hand into his. "That' okay. So long as you're doing everything you can do, I'm sure that everything will be okay."

A hard, solid lump wedged itself in Doctor Hikari's throat. He opened his mouth to say something, but couldn't force it through. Giving Haruka's hand a squeeze to reassure himself, he took a step back from the gently glowing experiment and then turned his back to the cylinder and walked over to the main control panel for the room. He finished inputting the commands to temporarily freeze the experiment, Haruka watching over his shoulder.

"I just need to pick up a few papers at the front desk, and then we can go," Doctor Hikari said, turning off a small collection of displays and holograms that he had gathered on his desk. As Haruka passed him, heading for the door, he caught her arm and pulled her into an embrace.

"Thank you," he murmured, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair.

Once the embrace had ended, Haruka looked up at him, surprised. "For what?"

"For listening."

Haruka gave him a small smile and a kiss on the cheek in response.

Wearily, Doctor Hikari returned his wife's smile and then headed for the door. He looked back over to the cylinder for one last time before he left, fighting the persistent longing for action that had consumed him over the last few months. He knew that he had to go, and he wasn't about to argue. He needed food. He needed rest. And his family needed him. Still, there was something about tearing his eyes away from the gently glowing bits of data that made him feel like he was tearing off his own limb. The small handful of steps that it took to go through the door may as well have been a hundred-mile trek through an arctic storm.

"Haruka?" he said as they moved down a short, dark hallway that separated the lab from the rest of the building. "I need to ask you a favor."

"Oh?" Haruka sounded puzzled. "What is it?"

"Nothing much. Just… remind me that I need to talk to you again. There's something else I need to tell you, and I don't want to forget."

Haruka blinked in surprise, and then her mouth turned down in worry. "Why don't you just tell me now?"

The lump in Doctor Hikari's throat hardened and grew. He swallowed once and cleared his throat, but was only able to croak the words: "I can't. …Not yet. I'm sorry."

He had been battling against hopelessness, all day every day, for more than a week now—ever since he had heard the news. Because the latest line of navis had a true personality inside of them along with their programming, many of them were refusing to follow orders or acting in other unexpected ways. Complaints had mounted. Upon consideration and a bit of research, the netnavi production companies had decided that the navis must have been having problems because of some sort of glitch. As a group, they had decided to halt production until a solution could be found.

Originally, Doctor Hikari had been thrilled. Immediately, he had contacted the heads of each of the largest companies, hoping that he had found an opportunity to make them listen to him at last. The bureaucrats, however, didn't want him to be right. His impossible-sounding ideas threatened to rob them not only of their power, but also of everything else that their worlds were built on—their jobs, their reputations, their honor, and even their self-respect. He had been rebuffed, mocked, and criticized at every turn.

The experience had been frustrating, to say the least, but Doctor Hikari would have been fine with it, seeing as how he was still being allowed to continue his research. He had returned to his lab that night with dashed hopes but a renewed energy. He had thought, as Haruka did now, that he would eventually find the proof his theory needed, and that everything would turn out okay.

Less than twenty-four hours later, he had been proven wrong.

The company owners had found a solution—a harsher, stricter form of programming that would be deeply integrated with the navi's frame. The programming would no longer resemble a disability. Now, there was nothing in the world that it could be compared to except for _mind control_.

The one thing that gave Doctor Hikari a shred of hope was that there were still details with the structure of the new programming that needed to be worked out. Once those details had been finalized, however, the manufacturing would resume, and hundreds of netnavis would have their "personalities" reinstalled. Thousands more would be created with the programming already in place. According to the latest news that Doctor Hikari had heard, there were less than two months left before the horrid project was put into motion.

Two months.

Doctor Hikari had less than two months to stop humanity from making the worst mistake of its entire history.

* * *

A/N: I know that this story involves some darker, somewhat unique ideas about the Mega Man franchise, so be sure to let me know what you think. Did I do a good job with these aspects, or did it give the story an uncomfortable feel? Hopefully, it turned out well—it was fun to write, in any case. I'm always open to comments and criticism, though, so don't be afraid to tell me how I could improve!


	2. Blindness

A/N: Sorry it took so long for me to get this chapter posted! I've been working on a different project recently, so this one was pushed to the back burner for a bit. Hopefully, Chapter 3 should be up a bit faster than this one was—I've got things planned out, and I just need to write them down.

By the way, do people in general prefer the Japanese or the English names for Mega/RockMan stories? I've been using the Japanese names for this particular fic, but I'd be interested to hear what you guys think. Anyway, any comments in general are certainly welcome!

Thanks for reading, and enjoy!

(New note: I have updated this chapter so that Netcorp's owner is named _Kurogane_. He used to be called _Himura_. Sorry for any confusion!).

* * *

Enzan waited silently as he stood just outside the door of the restaurant, watching his father speak with Netcorp's owner. Their formal lunch, now almost over, had been long, monotonous, and something that would have set any ordinary seven-year-old screaming in frustration. Enzan, however, watched the conversation keenly with vivid blue eyes that seemed almost to never blink.

"You're certainly tenacious, Kurogane-san," Enzan's father said.

A laugh that was proud, formal, and just a bit too energetic filled the air. "Well, I have to be, with people like you running companies like IPC! I hope that I won't have to wait too much longer for an answer."

Shuuseki Ijuin, Enzan's dad and the president of one of the largest electronics companies in the world, shook his head a little as he smiled in return. "I do my best to be timely. You understand that I wouldn't want to rush an important decision, though."

There was the slightest hesitation before Kurogane answered. "Of course! Of course. …But if I don't hear back from you in a week, Ijuin-san, I'll take it as an invitation to come and bother you again. We've been discussing this for some time, and one must move quickly, in business, after all."

"Certainly. Well, I wish you luck with your project, and my best regards to everyone at NetCorp."

"Yes, thank you, Ijuin-san. My regards to you and your son, as well."

About two minutes later, Enzan and his father were sitting diagonally across from one another in the Ijuin family limo. The ride was silent, and for the first little bit, the atmosphere was almost peaceful. The instant that Kurogane was out of sight, however, the older of the two Ijuin males seemed to transform in a dozen subtle ways, his cool smile and relaxed bearing melting away like frost under a hot sun. He tapped his foot impatiently as he stared out of the window opposite him, a tight, familiar line in place between his brows.

Enzan, for his part, sat calmly, though his back was rigidly straight. Even if he hadn't been wearing a dark blazer, formal pants and a tie, his posture and expression would have made him look much older than he really was. Involuntarily, his hand strayed to his PET—a bright red, handheld device that was placed securely in a leather case at his belt. Though it didn't show on his calm exterior, his heart was beginning to pound as he braced himself for what he knew would begin at any moment.

His father's question came abruptly through the silence. "What can you tell me about Kurogane-san from what we saw today?"

Enzan suppressed his instinctive flinch. _Kurogane is large, intimidating, and talks too loud, _he thought. He flexed and then relaxed the fingers of one hand. He knew that his father wasn't looking for that kind of answer.

_He's stubborn, _was the next phrase to leap to mind. It had taken ages for Ijuin to work his way out of the restaurant without giving Kurogane a definite response. While that information was useful, however, it was far too obvious to say aloud. _He's greedy._ Would that work? What kind of answer was he expected to give?

"He's good at pretending to be happy when he's actually not," Enzan said slowly, looking up to meet his father's eyes.

A small grunt of acknowledgement came from Enzan's left, though Ijuin's face remained stony. "And what makes you say that?"

"Well, that's what he was doing during lunch today," Enzan said, with growing confidence that his answer was acceptable. None of it would be news to Ijuin, of course, but nothing _ever_ seemed to come as news to Ijuin. "He's… mad that we're still just thinking about his offer, even though we've been discussing it for a while now."

Ijuin turned his face back to the window, though he continued to monitor his son out of the corner of his eye. "Correct, even if it was a shallow observation."

Enzan swallowed, glared at the carpet, and prepared to try again. "He's…"

Closing his eyes briefly, Ijuin let out a small, sharp sigh. "Every action and every emotion has a _reason_ behind it, Enzan, and it's the _reason _that serves as valuable information. If you know someone's motivation, you can outmaneuver them. If not, you may as well be blind. Now think—_why_ is Kurogane-san so mad over a small delay?"

'_Why?' Kurogane is just impatient! _Enzan thought dumbly. The large man had done a good job of hiding it, but throughout the hour they'd been together, small physical cues had hinted that he was less than happy with even the short wait for his food. His eyes had flicked over to the kitchen entrance more than once, and he had kept his left hand in his lap for the entire meal, as if he was purposely forcing himself not to look at his watch.

After several seconds of silence, Ijuin leaned back into his chair, shaking his head slightly. "Pitiful," he muttered. "If you had paid closer attention to the financial reports I'd showed you earlier, you'd know that Kurogane-san—…"

"…_Is desperate!_" Enzan blurted out, leaning forward sharply. Anxiety mixed with triumph had made his voice too loud, but Enzan didn't care—he had finally hit on something solid, and he knew it as well as he knew his own name.

Ijuin turned back to him at the words, his slightly raised eyebrows betraying his surprise.

"He's desperate," Enzan repeated, his mind working furiously. "His company has reached a sort of standstill. He used to be the clear-cut king of netnavi programming, but his profits have dropped, he's stopped moving forward, and the competition is moving in on his heels."

"True," Ijuin said, not missing a beat, "but what does that have to do with me?"

Taking a deep breath through his nose, Enzan paused for the briefest of instants to sort through the pertinent facts. The recent netnavi programming crisis had hit the entire industry like a punch to the stomach. …If Kurogane played his cards right, however, it could be an opportunity for him, instead. Because the glitches were so widespread, _all_ major netnavi companies had agreed to a truce while they worked out a solution. This meant that each of them was frozen in place, for now.

"He's taking advantage of the break in sales to pull ahead again," Enzan said, evenly meeting his father's gaze. "Forming a business alliance with IPC means that he'll be able to exchange resources and information with us, and maybe even piggyback off our good publicity."

Slowly, Ijuin nodded, prodding Enzan on. "So, in other words…"

"He's using us." The idea was like a clear, cold breeze blowing away the fog of innocence and delusion. "…And he's doing it in a way that borders on dishonoring the truce."

"_Precisely_." All at once, a hard, keen gleam revealed itself in Ijuin's eyes. He leaned forward just enough that each of his words held a stunning impact, and he spoke in the firm, honest voice that had earned him his place as president of IPC. "If it were anyone else, I wouldn't be worried—business owners make connections, after all, and businesses expand. …But Kurogane-san's business ethics have been… _questionable_, of late. I don't want him anywhere _near _my company."

Enzan blinked. "But… then why haven't you just… turned him down?"

Ijuin gave a short little exhale that was probably the closest thing he ever did to laughing. "One doesn't turn down an offer of partnership with _Netcorp_ without some consideration."

Once again, silence filled the limousine. Ijuin didn't expand on his statement, and Enzan didn't ask for detail. His father was wearing the same expression that he usually did after one of their little teaching sessions—one that clearly said he'd had enough of explaining things, and that he would resume the lesson at another time.

Enzan leaned back heavily into his seat. Even though he was fairly sure he had done well, he felt completely exhausted. Distantly, he noticed that one of his hands had strayed back to his PET, as if he were subconsciously seeking comfort from the plastic device. …or, more accurately, from what was _inside _the plastic device. PErsonal Terminals, or 'PET's for short, were IPC's chief product, and the machine most commonly used to carry one's netnavi. Although the screen was currently off, Enzan knew that his own navi, Blues, had probably been listening to the entire conversation.

It was stupid, Enzan knew. Blues was just a computer program. He wasn't alive, and he _certainly_ wasn't a friend that Enzan could talk to or draw support from. Firmly, Enzan told himself to move his hand away from his belt; his father was there, after all, and he wouldn't like it if he noticed Enzan clinging to the PET again.

Somehow, though, when the limo pulled up in front of IPC's main building, Enzan's hand was still on the case at his waist.

.*.*.*.

Ijuin's main office was huge, practical, and as always, meticulously organized. To Enzan, the area had always seemed a little cold. …Not that the room was unpleasant, of course. Since it was perched on the top floor of the towering IPC building, the enormous, floor-to-ceiling windows on the wall opposite the door offered a majestic view of the city. …Aside from the view, however, there wasn't much to love. The area was a decent size, and the furniture was high-quality, but the white walls, black file cabinets, and orderly, symmetrical layout were meant to impress, rather than to make one feel welcome. Outside of Ijuin's teaching sessions, thick silence filled the room like a miasma.

It looked like it belonged in a magazine article about obsessive business owners—not in Enzan's life.

"Informational reports," Ijuin said, walking briskly across the space and opening a drawer of his desk. "For the next hour or so, we're going to review them together, and I want you to give your opinion instead of blindly agreeing to what the authors said."

Enzan's heart sank. Informational reports? Already? He had barely gotten back from having a business lunch with _Netcorp's_ top executives.

"About what?" he said aloud.

"While an agreement with Netcorp is out of the question, the Board seems to think that a business alliance with another company would be profitable. I agree, with reservation. Given the new progress being made in netnavi research, I can't think of a better time to collaborate with one of them."

Enzan held his arms very, very still at his sides, willing his hands not to shake. He wanted, more than anything, to just go home, but he knew from experience how his father would react to the request. His job now was to act calm, dignified, and confident—all while he learned how to do a job that would have been over the head of someone three times his age.

"We'll begin with an assessment of Akira Electronics," Ijuin continued, drawing a stack of paperwork out of the opened drawer. "Currently, they are number one in the industry, aside from Netcorp, so—…"

"Ijuin-sama?"

Ijuin froze in place at the sound of the new voice interrupting his normal routine. Briefly, he glanced at the door, but upon seeing that no one was there, he narrowed his eyes and turned to Enzan, instead. The voice had come from the PET at Enzan's waist.

Enzan stood rigid, unable to speak. He had recognized the voice of Blues instantly, but he couldn't fathom why the netnavi would have spoken. Hesitantly, he drew the PET out of its pouch, activating the screen and holding the device so that Blues was visible to everyone in the room.

"I hope you'll pardon the interruption, sir," Blues said when Ijuin simply continued to look at the PET. "…But young Enzan-sama has had a highly stressful day already. Perhaps you would consider allowing him a short break?"

Enzan's insides squirmed with a mixture of gratitude and dread. "Blues," he muttered, "you don't have to—…"

"_My son,_" Ijuin said in a tight, level voice, "doesn't needa 'break.' He needs to continue his training, if he is _ever_ going to have a hope of becoming my vice president. Elites don't tolerate failure."

Blues paused slightly before continuing to speak. His face was expressionless, but by listening carefully, Enzan was just able to make out the slight hoarseness in Blue's voice that signaled that he was struggling to form the words. "Enzan-sama's heart rate is at 151 beats per minute, sir. This level of stress isn't healthy."

Silence fell.

Ijuin's eyes widened, anger making the coal-black irises seem to gleam. "Enzan, we designed the health monitoring features for _emergencies_."

Enzan's cheeks burned crimson. "I…"

"Enzan-sama didn't have anything to do with my misuse of your hardware, Ijuin-sama," Blues said, cutting in over Enzan's half-formed protest. "I simply checked his pulse because I was concerned."

Ijuin stared at the PET for about two seconds before closing his eyes, leaning on his desk, and muttering a small handful of severe-sounding phrases under his breath. Enzan couldn't make out most of it, but he suspected that his father had opened by cursing Kurogane and his $%# % programming glitches.

When Ijuin looked up, he directed his next few words at Enzan. "I have a meeting at 3:30. Before we go, I want that thing on its recharging station and _out of the way_. You may take the limo in order to run it home after we finish up in here. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Enzan intoned dutifully. Quickly, he tucked the PET back in its pouch and moved to stand at his usual place near the desk. His smooth, expressionless face didn't falter, but inside, he felt embarrassed, relieved—and strangely, mildly amused. So much for Ijuin not wanting to give him a break. He wondered if his father would ever realize that he had just been manipulated by a machine.

Enzan's thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the office door. Without moving his head, he shot his father a wary, sidelong glance—the timing couldn't have possibly been worse. Apparently, however, he should have known better than to be concerned. Though Ijuin's jaw clenched, he took a short, deep breath and then sank calmly into his seat. "Come in," he said, the picture of control.

Reiko Sasaki, Ijuin's personal secretary, appeared in the doorway, dipping into a small bow before beginning to speak. "Pardon the intrusion. There's someone here for you, Ijuin-sama."

Ijuin's eyebrows rose slightly. "I don't recall having any appointments."

Sasaki hesitated, clearly nervous. "He… didn't have an appointment, sir."

Enzan blinked in surprise. His former weariness ebbed a bit, giving way to curiosity.

"Oh?" Ijuin asked, narrowing his eyes. "And who is 'he?'"

"Doctor Yuichiro Hikari, of SciLab. He says that tried to make an appointment earlier, but you weren't available, and he couldn't wait until you had an opening."

"Hikari…" Ijuin said, tapping one finger on his desk in thought. "He's the scientist who's been trying to contact Kurogane-san, isn't he? The 'revolutionary'?"

"Yes, sir. I believe that's him."

Ijuin let out a disgusted snort. "Tell him I'm busy and to take his business elsewhere. I don't have time to listen to paranoid, eccentric scientists."

'Paranoid' and 'eccentric' were rather gentle terms, compared to what Enzan had heard from both the media and most of the major executives in the country. Hikari was obsessed, they said, with some very controversial experiments. More than once, the words 'insane' and 'delusional' had been used to describe him, and most people claimed that if he weren't also a certifiable genius with computers, he would have been fired from SciLab long ago.

_The man must be working awfully hard,_ Enzan thought, _in order to earn his place at SciLab and work on his little 'side project' at the same time._

Sasaki flushed slightly and looked at the floor, bending her back slightly to show deference. "He did say that it was important, Ijuin-sama. You're sure you want to turn him away?"

Waving his hand in a dismissive gesture, Ijuin held back a sigh. "I'm positive. Give him my apologies and send him on his way."

Enzan fully expected Sasaki to retreat down the hall at once, but to his surprise, she continued to linger in the doorway, hovering on the edge of speech.

Ijuin raised an eyebrow. "You've delivered your message, Sasaki-san. You may go."

Quavering and frozen in her respectful half-bow, the secretary swallowed and spoke. "Sir, he was… _highly _insistent—…"

The instant the words began to leave her mouth, Ijuin stiffened. "I won't see him," he said, "and that is _final_, Sasaki. Get back to your desk. _Now._"

The secretary left without another word. With one last, irritated glance at the door, Ijuin settled himself at his desk and began to leaf through his pile of reports.

Turning his gaze away from the door, Enzan stepped closer, meaning to accept whichever report Ijuin chose to hand him, but Ijuin shook his head without looking up. "There have been more than enough interruptions for today," he said. "Take care of Blues, and come back quickly. We have work to do, and I expect your full attention when you get back."

"Yes, sir," Enzan said, and walked swiftly out the door, heading for the elevator. Silently, he congratulated himself for not letting any of his relieved gladness show on his face. The full trip would take at least twenty minutes—plenty of time to collect himself and reorganize his scattered thoughts before working on the reports.

After boarding the elevator and pushing the button that would take them down to the lobby, Enzan folded his arms and leaned against one of the walls. "Brave of Sasaki-chan to keep speaking after the Old Man told her not to," he muttered as an afterthought, his eyes flicking down to his PET.

"It is normally ill-advised to contradict one's employer," was Blues's simple reply.

The duo was quiet after that. Enzan had, after all, been speaking less and less outside of his father's forced training sessions. The trend had started when his mother had died. If it continued, then soon he would be refusing to speak at all. His father always refused to listen to anything but business, and when his tiny, intelligent son was involved, he demanded perfection in every word. As a rule, Enzan spoke when he was spoken to, gave long speeches when he was asked to impress, and kept quiet anytime else.

With Blues, however, it was different. There was no pressure, no judgment, and no need either to talk or be silent. If he spoke, Blues didn't criticize his words, and if he didn't, then Blues seemed to understand. It was a blessing, and though Enzan told himself again and again that he was foolish to enjoy it, he found himself increasingly grateful for the moments he and Blues were alone.

Normally, after a drawn-out dialogue like the one after today's cursed business lunch, Enzan would have been happy to keep his mouth closed. In spite of this, however, a handful of words were nagging at the back of his throat, and a bit before they reached the lobby, he removed his PET from its case once again and allowed the words to trickle out.

"Thank you, Blues."

Blues seemed almost surprised at the expression of Enzan's gratitude, but the faintest hint of a smile painted itself on his lips. "Certainly, Enzan-sama."

Enzan was about to put the PET in its pouch, but stopped when he heard Blues take a sudden, sharp breath.

"Blues?"

For a moment, there was no reply.

Enzan's brow furrowed in concern. "Blues? Are you okay?"

Blues straightened himself, the picture of composure. "Of course. Everything is fine."

Unsure, Enzan tightened his grip on the PET. "Is it the headaches again?"

"Netnavis don't get headaches, Enzan-sama. I'm sure I'll be fine once I've had a chance to recharge."

There was a small _ding_ to signal that the elevator had arrived at the lobby, and the doors slid smoothly open. Enzan, however, didn't move. After a moment, the doors shut again, with Enzan still inside and looking uncertainly at Blues.

"Do you feel alright?" Enzan asked again, though he knew what Blues would answer.

"I am a program, Enzan-sama. How I 'feel' is not relevant."

"But…" Enzan trailed off, shifted his weight, and spoke again. "I just mean… are you okay?"

"Question does not compute."

The shift in Blues' voice was abrupt, obvious, and chilling. A shiver of alarm spread through Enzan's limbs—a stupid, inexplicable fear that had no reason for being there, but penetrated Enzan's armor all the same. Something was wrong. Something was _wrong_. He didn't know how he knew, or even quite what it meant, but he could somehow tell that the flat, robotic tone that had taken over Blues' normally demure voice was… _unnatural._

It wasn't as if it was the first time that this sort of thing had happened. In fact, the 'Robot Blues' often took over whenever Blues was getting over an especially bad episode of glitching. Supposedly, it was normal. Supposedly, it was how Blues was supposed to be.

_Hikari's experiments had something to do with Netnavis. _

The thought rose unbidden, like an unknown seed riding a sudden gust of wind. He had no idea where it had come from, or where it might lead. He knew he ought to toss it away.

…Instead, he found himself pushing the button that would take the elevator back up to the office building's top floor.

"Enzan?" Ijuin looked up sharply when Enzan walked into the room. He was obviously less than pleased, and though he wasn't a man to lose his temper easily, it was apparent that his last nerves were fraying.

Letting his arms hang casually but firmly at his sides, Enzan summoned the most professional voice he possessed. "Forgive me for intruding on your time," he said, "but a thought has occurred to me, and I hate to waste an opportunity in business."

The cool, intelligent look in Enzan's eyes must have caught Ijuin's attention. Raising one eyebrow in mild surprise, he put down his papers and folded his hands on the desk in front of him. "I'm listening."

"Sir," Enzan said, choosing his words carefully. "How can a business possibly succeed if its owners aren't willing to take a risk?"

Ijuin blinked. "Is that all?"

"That is all, sir."

Slowly, Ijuin nodded, unfolding his hands and picking up the papers that he had laid down. "Doctor Hikari has already left by now. You realize this, yes? Even if he refused to move, security will have escorted him from the premises."

Enzan nodded once to show he understood.

"I have no intention of inviting him back to my building after sending him away. His reputation is hardly favorable at the moment, and it would reflect badly on my own judgment."

Another nod.

For a long, tense moment, the two Ijuins locked eyes with each other; storm cloud black versus electrifying blue. It felt as if the air in the room had turned to ice, and with even the slightest movement, it would shatter. Then, Ijuin stood, walked to the window, and gazed out over the city in contemplation.

"Very well," he muttered without looking around. "I will consider your advice, as I would consider any advice from a future vice president. For now, finish the assignment I gave you earlier. You will need to move quickly to make up for lost time."

Later, back in the limo and staring unseeingly at the sky outside, Enzan wished that he knew exactly what his father was thinking. Truth be told, he wished he knew exactly what he _himself_ was thinking, as well. He couldn't explain what had happened moments ago, but somehow, Enzan felt lighter for what he had done. He had said the things he had needed to say.

Now, he would leave it to fate to take care of the rest.


	3. Distant Rays

A/N: First of all, apologies for the long delay. You remember how I said I was "working on a different project?" Well, that other project kidnapped my brain, held it hostage, and refused to let it go until I had written something like 20,000 words of it. Or more. (Visit my Detective Conan fic, "Alone in the Shadows," if you want to see the culprit). Anyway, my brain finally managed to escape for long enough to get back to the Rockman universe, so here you go!

Also, I have to give out another short apology—I've changed _Himura's_ name to _Kurogane_. I thought it made a nice symbolic contrast. (_Kurogane_ means "black steel," whereas _Hikari_ means "light.") I hope that the name change isn't too confusing, but either way, your feedback is appreciated.

Thanks for your patience!

* * *

"_Zap!_ Hah! I got you with my ray gun, Squirt!"

"I told you to stop _calling _me that! I'm older than you are, you jerk!"

"Only by nineteen minutes. …And you're such a baby that I might as well be _twice _your age!"

Listening to the raised voices of his two small sons, Doctor Hikari couldn't hold back a sigh. The older one, Netto, was normally the more sensible of the two—at least by a little. Today, however, he was so moody that he was almost making the younger one look like an angel.

Almost.

"Ha-ha, Squirt! You're gonna have to run faster than that if you want your PET back!"

"_Saito Stupid Hikari, I am gonna __kill_ _you!_"

"Hey!" Doctor Hikari shouted, straightening his back as he glared warningly at his sons. "If the two of you want to keep playing, you'd better be nice! Saito, _give Netto his PET_, and Netto, if I hear you say something like that again, I'll send you to your room."

The boys slowed and glanced at their father. Netto flushed and glared intently at the ground, but Saito grinned, waved one hand in the air in an "I-don't-know-why-you-worry-so-much" gesture, and restored Netto's PET to its owner before rocketing off to resume his play.

Doctor Hikari leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The concrete steps of the front porch were hard, but oddly comfortable at the moment, and the morning sunlight was a blessed relief from the darkness of the lab. It was such a beautiful day that he had almost even managed to relax, until the boys' argument over the PET had jarred him back to his worries. Ever since his unsuccessful attempt to ask Kurogane—and anyone else who could potentially convince him to listen—for more time, his stress had escalated to dangerous levels.

Light footsteps tapped across the sunlit porch as Haruka emerged from the house. Doctor Hikari smiled at her as she sat down next to him, holding a clean white mug in each hand. The smell of coffee drifted to him through the early-springtime air, and Haruka held one of the cups out to him with a slightly questioning look.

Doctor Hikari laughed grimly. "No caffeine for me, right now. Thank you, but no." A stimulant was the _last_ thing he needed, given his pounding heart and fraying nerves.

Haruka put the cup down next to her, seeming to understand. "If you don't want coffee, then why don't you go inside and try to sleep?" she asked. "Heaven knows you need it."

"If I'm being forced to take a day off, then I _am_ going to use it. It's been too long since I've spent any time with the boys."

Haruka hesitated, as if she was going to argue, but changed her mind instead. "Stubborn as a computer virus, and twice as hard to talk to," she muttered, and Doctor Hikari nudged her playfully with his elbow.

Haruka rolled her eyes and laughed a little. "At least I know where the boys get it," she said, shaking her head.

"Speaking of the boys," Doctor Hikari said, lowering his voice a little and looking back out at the yard, "Saito hasn't told you where he got those bruises yet, has he?"

"Not a word, and I know better than to try to force it out of him, at this point,"

Doctor Hikari grimaced. It wasn't the first time that this had happened. Every so often, when the boys came home, Saito would be covered with a collection of inexplicable bruises, cuts, and scrapes. Once, he had walked home on a badly sprained leg, and despite the fact that he'd had Netto's shoulder to lean on, the additional strain had put the leg out of commission for months.

"I don't suppose you have any ideas," Haruka muttered, looking after her son with worried eyes.

"Everything from his usual roughhousing to bullies, picking fights, or trespassing on dangerous property. Some theories are more likely than others, but really, I don't have a clue."

Haruka nodded slightly in a way that said that she'd be coming back to the issue later. They sat in silence for a couple moments, but then Haruka glanced over to her side and gave Doctor Hikari a piercing look. "You really _do _need to get some sleep," she said.

With a small sigh, Doctor Hikari closed his eyes and gave Haruka's shoulder a squeeze. "Later," he said. "I can handle myself."

Haruka looked at him sternly with her bright, red-brown eyes. "Can you?"

The tone in Haruka's voice caught the scientist off guard. "…And what exactly is _that _supposed to mean?" he asked, a bit more harshly than he meant to.

Instead of giving him an answer, Haruka looked back out over the yard with stubborn weariness etched into her face. The sullen expression did nothing to ease Doctor Hikari's irritation, but it didn't take long before he realized that all of his frustration was centered on himself. …No, apparently he _couldn't_ manage on his own, given what had happened at the lab last night. Running a hand through his medium-length hair, he felt the mild annoyance blossom into resentment.

Three new theories. Twenty-one restarts. Four discarded netnavi frames. Eight days of torture. Every person had limits, and Doctor Hikari had finally found his. The lack of sleep and intense, never-ending stress had finally taken their toll, and when an intern had entered his lab by mistake last night, they had found him on the floor, unconscious. As per his doctor's orders (and Haruka's, for that matter), Doctor Hikari had taken today off.

He had been less than thrilled at the forced vacation.

Almost against his will, Doctor Hikari started to massage his fingers restlessly, a surge of sudden anxiety flooding through his limbs. As wonderful as it was to be here with the boys, as beautiful as it felt to sit with Haruka's arm brushing against his, he simply couldn't relax. He didn't have the _time _for this! The fate of an entire race of beings was resting squarely on his shoulders, and if he didn't—…

"I know what you're thinking," Haruka said, cutting into his internal monologue.

Doctor Hikari started at her voice, then glowered at the ground. "Of course you do," he said, his heart jumping erratically in his chest. "I haven't been able to think about anything else for months."

"_Yuichiro Hikari, you stop that, right now_."

Caught off guard by the sudden sharpness in his wife's voice, Doctor Hikari looked up, surprised.

Haruka shifted her position so that she was now resting on her knees and facing Doctor Hikari full-on. Her eyes were just above the level of her husband's. Gently, she put one hand on either of his shoulders, and began to speak in a low, serious voice. "I understand, now, why you've been so fixated on your work. …But Yuu, you can't help _anyone_ if you kill yourself worrying! I swear, if you don't relax, I'll put a sleeping pill in your coffee and force it down your stubborn throat!"

In his shock, Doctor Hikari's lips parted slightly. His face was probably almost comical, but Haruka didn't laugh.

"I can't just forget about them," Doctor Hikari said. "This world is in a crisis—I would be insane if I _weren't _feeling so much pressure right now!" He tried to draw back, but Haruka gripped his shoulders tightly, keeping him where he was.

"Yuu," she said, and her voice was tender. "_You're only human_."

The words took a second to register completely. When they did, Doctor Hikari felt something change. His stubbornness melted, his pride collapsed, and his anxiety—while not disappearing entirely—faded enough that he could breathe without feeling a tightness in his chest. Slowly, he nodded. Then he smiled, picked up the coffee sitting next to him, and took a small sip. Haruka gave a short, content sigh, and then shifted around to face the yard again.

"Only human," he murmured. The words had a ring of truth to them that was both freeing and bitter at once. Humans were imperfect. Humans made mistakes. They had flaws, and limits, and no single human could carry the weight of the world for long without being crushed beneath it.

Maybe he _would_ go inside and take a nap. Somehow, Doctor Hikari suspected that Haruka had known he would give in eventually.

"You didn't _really_ put a sleeping pill in the coffee, did you?" he asked suspiciously.

Haruka just laughed, her eyes twinkling.

With a sigh, he picked up his mug, rose from the steps, and turned to the door with a resigned look. He would make it up to the boys when this was over—regrets, love, and forgiveness were all parts of being _human_, after all.

_Now if only I could make a netnavi that was capable of feeling those things_, he thought with a bitter shake of his head.

Then, he froze in his tracks.

"Yuu?" Haruka asked, puzzled at his hesitation.

Doctor Hikari, however, wasn't listening. His heart had begun to pound so rapidly that he could feel his pulse in his hands.

"That's it," he whispered.

He stood, staring at nothingness for a second more, and then, an explosion of energy burst outward through his limbs and he dashed inside at breakneck speed. Coffee spilled on the floor as the mug tumbled out of his hand. He nearly crashed into the living room wall as he hurtled around the corner, through the hallway, and into his study, where he seized the nearest piece of paper and began scribbling madly.

He was barely aware of Haruka when she appeared in the doorway behind him. The woman was obviously burning with questions, but she must have sensed the urgency in Doctor Hikari's motions, because she watched him without interrupting, biting her lip and gripping the doorframe tightly with one hand.

For several breathless minutes, they stood that way with no change. Doctor Hikari's fingers were flying almost as fast as his thoughts, and he paused only to whip out his PET in order to use its calculator function when he ran into a computation too difficult to do by hand. His mind was whirling. His skin was tingling. His hopes rose as theories and calculations came together to confirm his idea as plausible, and his thoughts flew faster still.

Then, all at once, he was done.

His breath heaved as he stared at the papers in front of him.

"I can believe it," he whispered. "This might actually work."

It was almost as if his mind had been a darkened cavern, and somebody had walked in with a bright, steady lantern held in their hands. The cave wasn't illuminated entirely—Doctor Hikari's task was nowhere _near_ complete—but he could see things now that he had never dreamed could be in front of him. The distant rays of light had painted a stunning, incredible picture and lit the first steps of the path in front of him.

"Haruka," he said hoarsely, bracing his hands on the desk in front of him. "Call the boys in. Have them sit in the living room."

"Why?" Haruka asked, leading forward at his earnestness. "What just happened? Yuu, what did—…"

"Just get them," Doctor Hikari said eagerly. "I want to have a family meeting. I'll explain everything when we're all together."

Haruka nodded once, and then dashed back outside, already yelling for the boys.

Shaking, Doctor Hikari took a moment to stand there and simply _breathe_, staring at the notes in front of him as if they contained the answers to the universe. He felt lightheaded, and yet his mind was clearer now than it had been in almost half a year. With trembling hands, he gathered the pages into a thin pile and walked back out of the room.

He had gotten an idea, and if it worked, then everything was about to change.

.*.*.*.

The utter, intense silence filled the room in the same way that water fills an ocean.

Sitting stoically on the edge of a chair in the living room's center, Doctor Hikari could practically see the emotions that flew through the air like frozen lightning. Ahead of him and to his right, Haruka sat with her back ramrod straight and one arm gripping the couch's armrest tightly. To his left, on the other side of the couch, Netto's back was slightly hunched and his eyes were fixed on the ground. Saito, who was perched on the armrest just over Netto's shoulder, had his eyes locked firmly on his father, and for once he was holding perfectly still.

"You have my support," Haruka said at last. Her face was filled with a mixture of awe, humble strength, and subtle fear. She knew they were on the brink of something enormous.

Doctor Hikari nodded once in gratitude, and then turned his gaze to his young twin boys.

Netto, to all appearances, was lost in thought. Saito, however, was sitting tall, and his eyes sparkled with an intense gleam that belied his usual childishness. Slowly, deliberately, he slid off of the armrest to stand on his feet, clenching his fists and raising his chin proudly as he met his father's eyes. The light from the windows shone down on him, illuminating his determined expression and dignified stance.

His face seemed almost to glow.

"I'll do it," he said.

Pride, gratitude, humility, and a thousand other emotions blossomed to life in Doctor Hikari's chest, but the combination was quiet and still—peaceful waters mingling in a pond, rather than in a storm on the sea. Wordlessly, he rose and walked over to Saito, wrapped him in an embrace, and then placed his hands on the boy's shoulders and held him for a moment at arm's length.

"Thank you," he said. The words were simple, but behind them, he could almost hear the resounding, grateful cries of thousands of victimized netnavis.

Haruka, a small smile on her lips, rose to meet her son, as well. When she reached him, she placed one hand on Saito's head and planted a soft kiss on his ruffled hair.

"You're very, very brave, Sai-chan. You'll be helping a lot of people."

Saito snorted, a bit of his usual energy trickling back. "How does _this _make me brave? It's not like you're gonna chop me up or zap me with some kind of death ray."

Doctor Hikari nearly laughed, but the seriousness of the situation forced him to keep a straight face as he tried to explain. "People have always argued about whether it's okay to experiment with DNA," he said, fishing for words that his six-year-old would understand. "A lot of people are going to be mad or scared about what I'm doing. And really, even _I _have some mixed feelings about—…"

Saito scoffed, pushing away from his parents and crossing his arms in a cocky way. "You're helping people, right? So what's the big deal? I'm fine with it, and the rest of the world _already_ thinks you're crazy, so who cares what they say?"

The laugh that Doctor Hikari had been holding back erupted from between his lips, and he playfully ruffled Saito's hair, which made the boy beam up at him—Saito wasn't old enough, yet, to be embarrassed by his father's affection. The child's frank, open comment had been right, of course; Doctor Hikari's experiments had crossed into controversial territory long ago, and his 'mixed feelings' had hardly stopped him then.

"If this works, then I'll be the navi's netop, right?" Saito asked, rising up on his tiptoes eagerly.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Doctor Hikari agreed.

Saito's grin was almost blinding. "Ready to _rock_," he whispered, apparently off in his own little world.

Haruka swept the room with a look, apparently a bit stunned that so much had happened in such a short span of time. "It looks like everything's settled," she intoned with a glance at her husband.

"I suppose you're right," Doctor Hikari said, feeling a bit dazed himself. It felt entirely, utterly surreal to be standing here in the calm sunlight, speaking normally to his family as if today were any other ordinary day. He turned to the boys, gave a small nod toward the front door, and said, "If you two want to, you can go back outside. I think we're done in here."

"Alright!" Saito exclaimed, turning to Netto in a whirl of enthusiasm. "Let's go, Netto!"

Netto, who was still slumped over on the couch, startled slightly at the sudden motion. "Huh?"

"Come on, squirt! I bet I can beat you outside!"

There was a split second before Saito's words seemed to register, but then a smile brightened Netto's face and he leapt to his feet, crying out a defiant "You're on!" Together, they dashed for the exit, nearly knocking over a nearby side table as they went.

"No running in the house!" Haruka called belatedly. Both boys were already out the door, and the sounds of an argument over who had been faster were rapidly filling the air. Haruka let out a sound that was part laugh and part sigh, rolling her eyes in her husband's direction.

Doctor Hikari's eyes twinkled in amused understanding, but then, his expression took on a quieter, more solemn edge, and he reached out to Haruka's hand and entwined his fingers in hers. As one, they moved to the still-open door, watching their children in silence as they both mulled over what had been decided only moments before.

"They sure grow up fast, don't they?" Doctor Hikari said. He felt proud, but a bit wistful, as well.

"You don't have to tell _me _that," Haruka murmured softly. She hesitated, and then looked up at him, the slightest bit of uncertainty hovering in her eyes. "Yuu… you're sure that one of _our_ boys has to be the donor?"

"If not him, then who else?" came Doctor Hikari's simple reply.

Haruka nodded and faced the front, uncertainty replaced by determination. Silently, Doctor Hikari vowed to repay her later for her strength. It was a unique sort of woman who would agree to let her son's DNA be used in a ground-breaking experiment, even if it was for the greater good.

"You know, I'm a little surprised that Netto wasn't the one to volunteer," he said after a moment. His brow furrowed slightly as he watched his sons continue in some sort of make-believe game. "He's the one most interested in science. He's always asking me about my job, and he actually listens when I try to explain."

"He's been acting strange in general for a while, now," Haruka informed him, frowning worriedly as she brushed a bit of hair out of her eyes. "He's more moody, more oversensitive, and a little clingy, as well. It was worse today than usual—normally, it's almost hard to see any difference. You know how cheerful he is."

Doctor Hikari nodded silently. After watching Netto for a minute more, his gaze wandered over to Saito, who had been so eager to be the donor for his experiment. The bruises on his face stood out clearly in the morning sunlight, and his navy shirt only helped them show up more against his creamy skin. How on earth did he keep getting himself hurt?

When this experiment was over, Doctor Hikari decided, he was going to have a talk with his sons. Somehow, he had a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that Netto's odd behavior and Saito's injuries were linked.

"Yuu?" Haruka asked, leaning into him.

"Mm?"

"Go to bed."

Doctor Hikari's eyebrows flew upward in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"You. Bed. Now," she said sternly, stepping away and placing her hands on her hips. "I'm thrilled that you may have found some sort of breakthrough, but you still need rest, and my threat about the sleeping pill still stands."

Doctor Hikari stared at her in disbelief. "You think I can sleep? _Now?_"

"I think you definitely need to try."

"I may well have just discovered the solution to a _worldwide crisis_," Doctor Hikari said slowly, drawing each word out in careful emphasis.

"You also passed out from exhaustion less than twenty-four hours ago."

"Sweetie, I have half a mind to charge over to Scilab right _now_ and sneak in through the back!"

"…And _I_ have half a mind to drag you over to the hospital and have you sedated!"

"I've already been to the hospital, thanks. They cleared me and sent me home."

"They sent you home to _rest_, you fanatic!" Haruka glared at him, and he could have sworn that he felt his skin burning from the heat in her gaze. "I'm _serious_, Yuu! I've done some research, and if things keep on going like this, then there might be serious complications later on! Blood pressure, heart disease, anxiety, depression…"

"Alright, _alright_," Doctor Hikari said, massaging his head where the beginnings of a headache were starting to throb. "I get the picture." Now that the adrenaline of discovery and new possibilities had worn off, he was starting to feel drained again, and his legs were almost ready to give out. The fact that he had given in to Haruka's orders so quickly was a testament to just how tired he was.

Relaxing slightly, Haruka reached up to give his shoulder a squeeze and then pushed him gently in the direction of their bedroom.

"I don't have to like it," he said over his shoulder as he started down the hall.

Haruka's expression, which was somehow stern, triumphant, and tender all at once, didn't change. "I love you," she said.

Doctor Hikari sighed, then smiled, and paused as he said "I love you, too." Feeling a bit less sulky, now, he turned back towards the hall and continued on—but then, he was forced to stop once more as Haruka called out again.

"Yuu?" Her voice was more serious, this time.

"Yes?"

"Good luck with your experiment," she said, her eyes twinkling warmly. "I'm proud of you."

Something inside of Doctor Hikari tingled strangely when he heard those words, and as he stood there with his eyes locked on Haruka's, he knew that there were a lot of unsaid things riding behind her simple comment. Slowly, he nodded, promising his best. Then, he walked the rest of the way to his room and opened the door, ready at last for some long-needed sleep.

Tomorrow, he headed back to work—and heaven help him if a little clinical exhaustion was going to get in his way.


End file.
